


Wet, Wild, Penetration

by whatthehalefire



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Hand Jobs, M/M, Masturbation, Mutual Pining, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Shower Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-29
Updated: 2016-05-29
Packaged: 2018-07-10 15:08:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,914
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6990433
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whatthehalefire/pseuds/whatthehalefire
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles decides to masturbate in Scott's shower, which inevitably leads to fucking, of course.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Wet, Wild, Penetration

**Author's Note:**

> remember that time two years ago when I said I was gonna write shower sex? well, here it is.
> 
> it's kind of all over the place and I really wanted to toy with Scott and Stiles being very versatile, so there aren't really set roles? I don't know, it's a weird one.
> 
> title by robert dahle

Stiles always wondered whether or not it was socially acceptable to want to fuck your best friend as much as he wanted to fuck Scott. The answer was no, of course not, because it wasn’t socially acceptable to want to fuck anyone as much as he wanted to fuck Scott.

He thought about it incessantly—during class he’d find himself doodling pictures of that perfect ass in the margins of his notebook. He’d end up getting mauled during lacrosse practice because he was too busy admiring how Scott’s shoulders filled out his uniform like nothing else to pay attention to whatever subpar play Coach had them running. And as if it were a complete inevitability, every night he’d lie in bed with his dick in his palm, humping into his hand like a fourteen year old with the thought of Scott riding him into the mattress clear in his mind.

It was a problem, to say the least. Stiles didn’t really think he could get much worse, but lo and behold, he’d sank to the point of jerking off in Scott’s shower when he was just outside of the door.

His head was pushed against the tile, lip almost bloody with biting it to try to keep his voice down, hand grasping his pink dick with urgent, intense movements to try to get off as quickly as possible because Scott could probably smell it. Scott could definitely smell it, and it was wrong, so wrong, but really, anyone who blamed Stiles didn’t know the gravity of the situation.

They didn’t understand how impossible it was being best friends with someone as insanely attractive as Scott, especially not when he went commando in sweatpants and his dick bounced gorgeously beneath the fabric while he jumped up and down because he won the third round of Super Smash Bros. in a row. 

And Stiles’ losses were equally as understandable because Scott was shirtless and kept scratching through the lovely trail of hair leading down from his bellybutton that Stiles just wanted to lick… then proceed to tug down his bottoms and sneak that cock between his lips, suck him down until he gagged and—

“Stiles?” Hearing Scott’s voice actually made him groan and he flailed hard enough to his head against the tile. He stood silently for a moment, one hand still wrapped firmly around his cock while the other pressed lightly to the knot already forming on his skull before he heard a knock and Scott calling his name a second time.

He swallowed, unsure of how to explain himself but apparently he didn’t have to. Scott pushed the door open, rushing in and Stiles didn’t have time to get a word out before he was snatching the curtain open. 

“Are you—,” Scott went wide eyed, blinking quickly as his eyes fell and rose again in the same millisecond, face turning pink with embarrassment already and Stiles’ probably did the same. He was heaving and nervous, belly churning as his mind flipped through every plausible solution to get out of this situation without his head stuck up his ass.

“Oh, wow,” Scott muttered, a faint hint of satisfaction in his tone that made Stiles stir. He swallowed thickly, Adam’s apple bobbing up and down as his gaze flickered between Stiles’ groin and face. “I am so sorry, Stiles. I thought you were, like, hurt or something, you didn’t respond and there was a loud noise!”

Scott stepped forward, intrusively, sniffing as he eyed Stiles’ hair and the hand resting against his cranium. He reached up, concern clear before Stiles swatted his hand away.

“Why the hell were you knocking in the first place, dude?” Stiles asked, finally shrinking away from the stream of water and shaking himself of the excess, all the while his was dick still throbbing between his fingers. Part of him was concerned about the fact that getting caught jerking off by your best friend didn’t make him soft, the other part was too distracted by the droplets of water landing on Scott’s bare chest to really care.

“Well, it smelled,” Scott paused, blinking and averting his eyes and gulping hard as he shifted a bit on his feet. Stiles’ eyes dropped almost immediately to the bulge in his sweats before he could cover it completely, “off.”

“And by off do you mean it reeked of arousal and lust and sex and you got curious?” Stiles pondered, suddenly feeling like he had the upper hand as he bent his neck back and shifted his weight, spine just barely straightening in an attempt to subtly display himself  
Scott seemed to notice the change, considering the way his gaze hit Stiles’ cock again for a second too long before he recomposed and stared directly into Stiles’ honey eyes.

“No, dude—,” he whispered, licking his mouth as he tried desperately to focus solely on his friend’s face, eyes jumping among the moles the way it did whenever he was nervous. “I-I should go, this isn’t—,”

“Seriously, it’s okay.” Stiles said quietly, feeling a rush of guilt. He certainly didn’t expect Scott to actually muster up the courage to knock on the door, but it certainly wouldn’t be truthful to say he wasn’t hopeful for it. And, if Scott had enough courage to knock and walk in and get a nice, big eyeful of what Stiles’ had underneath his palm, Stiles had the courage to take it a little further.  
“I don’t mind, dude, not at all. Maybe you can help me out.”

Scott’s voice was like honey in Stiles’ ears, managing to be smooth and intoxicating and coy all at once. “Help you out?” 

Scott swallowed, leaning farther into the shower with reddening cheeks, brown eyes bright with curiosity. Stiles reached forward, pushing his thumb into the waistband of Scott’s pants and tugged, just far enough to see the nicely trimmed hair above his cock. He felt a shiver run down his spine at the sight.

“Yeah, and maybe I can help you out too.” Stiles voice was barely above a whisper, probably would have been completely inaudible if Scott hadn’t had superhuman hearing, but apparently he got gist of it because he was pushing his sweats down to his ankles and stepping into the shower before Stiles could think twice.

Stiles was pinned in the next second, Scott’s strong hands around his biceps with his torso pushed flushed against Stiles’ own. He’d probably be babbling about how perfect Scott’s sculpted abs felt pressed so close, how unbelievably blissful it was to feel their cocks lined up so perfectly, if it not for the fact that Scott’s tongue was halfway down his throat, kissing him with a kind of ferocity that he thought only existed in his best fantasies.

All he could do was moan, let his hips twitch towards Scott’s and drink down the wonderful taste of his best friend. But he pulled back, too soon, forehead pressed to Stiles’. “Do you have any idea how insane you’ve been driving me, Stiles? You smell… fucking delicious, dude, all the god damn time.”

He scoffed, offended because really, Scott was one to talk. “Do you have any idea how insane you’ve been driving me? With your cute face and your tight ass and shit, a person with a dick as seemingly gorgeous as yours should not be allowed to not wear underwear with gray sweatpants. Are you trying to kill me, honestly?”

“I didn’t know it was like that.” Scott muttered, voice suddenly serious as his brows drew together in that concerned, fatherly way that Stiles hated when it was directed at him. His heart dropped, embarrassment peaking because he never meant to admit that he sort of obsessively wanted to fuck his best friend. “Do you—,”

“Scott, I’m seventeen.” He interrupted, shrugging nervously as the first scapegoat he could think of flooded out before he could stop it. “I get excited from fruit that resembles boobs, okay? You just happen to be very attractive and I happen to be constantly horny. It’s not like that.”

“I know when you’re lying to me, Stiles.” Scott said back, grinding his hips up as if he and Stiles weren’t having a serious conversation. “And I hope you know that I won’t be weirded out or offended if it is like that.”

Stiles swallowed, trying to keep his mind focused on the words rather than the dick pressed to his own. “Why wouldn’t you be?”

“I’m not going to be upset about the smartest, hottest, most gorgeous person I know thinking I’m cute enough to kiss.” Scott said quietly, licking his lips swiftly as Stiles blushed, shrugging. 

He’d never admit to Scott’s face that he’d been waiting years to hear something like that from his mouth, that the words incited something deep in his belly that he didn’t believe he’d ever be able to vocalize and even if he could, he’d be much too embarrassed to.

“I’d like to do a lot more than kiss you, Scotty.” Stiles whispered, an undertone of seriousness to his voice. He let his gaze flicker across the subtle flush still present on Scott's dark, gorgeous skin, the way his lips just barely curled into a tiny smile as he watched Stiles watch him. 

Stiles didn’t think he’d ever admit it, but he wanted to do a lot more than fuck Scott, too - he wanted mushy things, like holding his hand in the car, and stupid things, like getting jealous over the ridiculous amount of people who wanted to bang Scott almost as badly as he did. But if a little frottage in the shower was the best he could do, he'd take it any day.

“The feeling is very, very mutual, if you couldn’t tell by,” Scott glanced down, wearing that goofy expression always sported when making a penis joke, "little Scotty."

Stiles rolled his eyes before letting his fingertips run down the smooth expanse of Scott’s skin until it finally reached the thick cock at full attention between Scott’s muscular thighs, dusted with dark hair. He took two teasing fingers and swept them in gentle circles around the head, budding with precome as Scott’s mouth found its place on Stiles’ pale neck to gently suck territorial marks above the littered moles.

“Little Scotty is not so little.” Stiles laughed, taking Scott between his fingers and stroking in tight, quick pulls that made Scott’s thighs shake visibly at the attention. The other boy scrambled to reach forward and gather his best friend in damp fingers, fumbling a bit before he got a good enough hold to make Stiles’ hand stutter, just barely.

And within seconds, Stiles decided that he wouldn’t come first, no matter how amazing Scott looked with water drifting over his skin, no matter how intensely satisfying those soft moans sounded to Stiles, he would make sure that Scott was first to buckle his knees and spurt onto his own stomach.

And, of course, Scott was too blissed out to even notice the way Stiles hovered above him, rubbed his back, coaxed him into shifting his hips, focusing on little but his own pleasure and messily fumbling at Stiles’ cock whenever he happened to remember it existed and Stiles was in complete heaven watching Scott turn to mush beneath his fingers.

He was compliant, yet hungry, he let Stiles lead while begging with gentle moans and squeezes of Stiles’ shoulder whenever he slowed down or loosened his grip, humming sweetly when Stiles provided the quick, firm rhythm that Scott seemed to adore. It didn’t take long for Scott to lean his forehead against Stiles’ wet shoulder, the water from his hair dripping warm along the line of Stiles’ neck as Scott mouthed at him, sucked bruises and marks into the sensitive skin until Stiles’ hand finally started to stutter in his own haze of pleasure.

Scott grinned against his skin, licked a line up Stiles’ neck and nipped gently at his earlobe as his strokes steadily grew more intentional, more confident. He pulled in long, slow pumps, thumbed along the head that was beginning to leak with precome and Stiles’ mouth went entirely slack as his brows furrowed.

“I was totally gonna let you win, but the wolf kinda loves it when you’re needy.” He bit his lip as he hesitantly tore himself from Stiles’ neck and Stiles could see a russet red forming along the perimeter of his eye the moment he pulled back, like he was fighting it and losing. He leaned in to catch Stiles’ lips in a short, ravenous kiss as he tugged a bit faster and by the time Scott finally looked up again, his eyes flashed crimson before he blinked.

Really, Stiles wouldn’t mind letting Scott fuck him, he’d be willing to submit to Scott’s primal urges, but there would be something so deliciously sweet about getting Scott to bend over for him even when his wolf was clawing at the surface.

“Well,” Stiles started, gently holding his breath to try and stave off an impending orgasm from Scott’s deft hand, his own fingers lowering to fondle Scott’s balls and press his palm against the base of his cock, “I kind of love making you feel good, so let me.”

Scott keened at the pressure Stiles applied graciously to his groin, breath catching and eyes dulling the barest bit as his hips rutted forward. His neck stretched up and his back bowed as a tiny, helpless noise fell graciously from his lips. “You’re good at this, Stiles.”

“Well, I’ve only had a few thousand hours of experience with my own cock and about 75% of those hours involved me thinking of you in positions very similar to this one.” Stiles shrugged, squeezing Scott at the base of his cock when his deep breaths began to sound more like low grumbles.

“Only 75%, huh?” Scott laughed, a bit of bite to his tone that made Stiles narrow his eyes and twist his wrist along Scott’s shaft until he whimpered. “I’m kidding, dude, please don’t take this out on my dick.”

“I’m just trying to make you feel good.” Stiles shrugged, leaning forward to nip gently along Scott’s neck despite the quiet growls rolling from his chest, hips bucking with need and eagerness. “I bet I could make you feel even better in your bed.”

Scott was clamoring out of the shower the moment the words left Stiles’ lips, grabbing a couple of towels and bursting through the door to his bedroom before Stiles could even turn the shower off. He managed to, after some fumbling and deep breathing; he was shocked he had enough coordination to step out of the tub.

Stiles snorted the second he crossed into the room, a bit of his nervousness diminishing when caught Scott laying towels down on top of the comforter. “Is that really necessary?”

“Yes! You’re soaking wet, towel off your hair.” He handed one off, looking expectant. Stiles gently rolled his eyes, but took the towel regardless. He dragged it through his waves and patted down his chest and shoulders, dusting water off his thighs.

He glanced up, mouth open to make a snarky comment about Scott’s remarkable innocence, but immediately lost all train of thought when he found his best friend sprawled out on the towels, dick in hand and shamelessly staring. “You’re gorgeous, dude.”

“I honestly think my brain just short circuited a little. I’m not even sure where I am right now.” Stiles murmured, mouth hanging open and eyes entirely fixated on Scott’s thick cock, clutched between long, pretty fingers and moving with clear intent: his own teasing pleasure.

“You’re here, with me, so get over here and pound my ass.” Scott barely finished the sentence before Stiles clamored his way over, pining Scott down with the weight of his body and brushing his lips over Scott’s Adam’s apple and nipping his chin. 

He kept climbing, trailing kiss after kiss over Scott’s warm skin and stopped just beneath the shell of his ear, hips grinding with subtle, soft movements, and made his voice as smooth and seductive as he could manage when he spoke. “Is that what you want, Scotty? Does the big bad wolf want his pretty hole fucked?”

“Oh, Jesus…” Scott keened, spine curling as he bared his neck, the movement stiff, as if something was restraining him from submission. But he wanted it, Scott wanted to be a mindless ball of pleasure-filled mush beneath his best friend and Stiles would be more than happy to comply. Stiles shoved at Scott’s hand so he could replace it with his own, fingers molding around the shaft and tugging in long, easy strokes that had Scott’s fingertips digging into Stiles’ skin.

Scott barely waited before he was wedging his hand between his headboard and mattress, fishing out a half empty bottle of lube and flipping the top open. “You seriously still hide your lube in the same place you did when we were, like, twelve?”  
Scott went pinkish, eyes narrowed and expression entirely deadpan. “Just fuck me, asshole.”

“Gladly,” Stiles grinned, snatching the bottle from Scott’s grasp and dropping a hefty amount onto the tip of his finger. He sat up, spreading Scott’s knees and wedging himself between his thick thighs. He took a moment, admiring the softness of it, the barely visible stretchmarks running along his hips, where his thighs became visibly darker from all the time the two of them spent basking on the hood of the jeep near the beach.

“Come on, Stiles.” Scott whined, grabbing his knees to drag them up toward his chest, his expression begging for Stiles to do anything in the world that would make him feel good and Stiles was never one to deny those big, lovely puppy-dog eyes. He curled his hand around the base of his shaft, his other hand slipping between Scott’s cheeks and gently circling his soft, pink entrance.

Scott groaned, getting a tighter grip on his knees, spreading himself the barest bit farther, but Stiles didn’t give until Scott let a plea slip through his full, bite swollen lips. Stiles felt a smile spread tightly across his face and he pressed through the rim, finger curling and twisting as he worked it in and out.

“More.” Scott breathed, half-lidded eyes shining a rusty red as his hips began to rock down. Stiles lifted a brow, pulling his finger halfway out and curling up, stroking that soft, sensitive spot that had Scott flexing and whining, just the way Stiles wanted. “Please, okay, please!”

“Good, Scotty…” Stiles nodded, easing another finger in and scissoring softly, taking full advantage of Scott’s ability to heal almost instantaneously. Scott groaned, hips moving with more vigor onto Stiles’ fingers, eyes having settled back to their dark, stunning brown.

Stiles granted him with a third finger, spreading the digits each time he plunged deep into his best friend and felt his chest constrict at every strained, helpless whimper that fell from Scott when Stiles fucked him exactly the way he wanted, free hand toying with his balls while his tongue worked easily around Scott’s delicate nipples. It was easy to figure out, though, with how responsive Scott was, how expressive he happened to be, in such a way that seemed entirely involuntary.

Stiles worked him open, taking considerably more time and effort than necessary, simply because Scott was so unbelievably breath taking when he was so well taken care of, so wracked with pleasure that he could hardly express how badly he wanted Stiles to rail him. But he could feel it, could feel it in Scott’s movements, the coiling of his hips, how he babbled Stiles’ name around cries of lust, though what really pushed him to end his relentless teasing was the quiet and garbled, though completely undeniable, “Need you,” that Scott stuttered out when Stiles’ gave a particular curt suck on his chest.

He pulled his fingers free, reveling in the long, low whine that Scott breathed out at the feeling of emptiness. Stiles leaned over him, sealing their mouths together and slipping his tongue past Scott’s lips as he pressed the tip of his cock to the alpha’s opening, teasing for just a few seconds before he eased himself inside, groaning at the tight heat of him.

“Fuck me deep, Stiles, please.” Scott begged, nails pressing into the muscle of Stiles’ shoulder blades and thighs wrapping around his back, inching him closer until Stiles was entirely sheathed in Scott’s wet, incredible heat.

There wasn’t much banter after Stiles buried himself, both boys much too focused on the burning hot exhilaration of it all. Stiles debated, for a moment, between fucking Scott rough and quick, pounding deep with relentless thrusts and moving with slow, passionate admiration for his beautiful, unbelievably sexy best friend and inevitably chose the ladder.

It was slow, steady rocks of his hips, wandering mouths and indulgent kisses that made his head spin and cock stir each time his thighs connected with Scott’s, even the slightest brush utterly intoxicating in a moment like that. Scott was all noise, all unpredictable spasms and movements, short breaths and flushed skin.

And God, did Stiles milk every bit of it, pulling long, needy sounds from him by dragging his tongue back and forth over his chest, taking pert nubs between his lips and nipping them raw, by running his fingertips along the velvety head of Scott’s cock, rolling the precome between his fingers and down the shaft, free hand roaming along Scott’s tensed muscles.

It didn’t take long for Scott to begin trembling and babbling, claws scraping lightly along Stiles’ bicep.  
“Careful, Alpha.” Stiles murmured, lifting himself to bend over Scott, combing back his curls and letting his eyes roam across his damp, flushed face, as gorgeous and vibrant as ever. “Do you wanna come for me, Scott?”

He nodded, voice caught in his throat as his thighs moved gingerly, desperately, hips seeming to jump at the thought. Stiles’ smile was deviously wide as he reached between their bellies and began pumping Scott with an easy, quick rhythm.

It didn’t take much time for Scott to go completely rigid, hole tightening around Stiles’ cock like a vice as he came with remarkable intensity. Stiles followed shortly after, vision practically going white as he shoved his hips forward, spilling into Scott’s entrance and dropping his head onto the other’s shoulder with an exhausted huff.

“Dude,” Scott breathed, sounding way too recovered and Stiles was immediately envious of werewolf enhancements. “You gotta slip out before it starts to hurt.”

Stiles only whined and Scott graciously moved his hips for him, spreading him out onto the mattress and planting a kiss to his forehead. “You okay?”

“My head is still spinning.” Stiles mumbled, shuffling toward Scott’s radiant warmth and closing the distance between them. Scott’s hand was on his shoulder within the next second, rubbing up and down in a soothing, sweet gesture.

“Sleep, you’ll feel better in the morning.” Scott chuckled, giving him a light squeeze.

Stiles snuffled, glancing up to Scott with the most innocent, sleepy eyes he could muster. “Promise this wasn’t a dream?”

Scott grinned, delicately rolling his eyes. “Promise.”

“Promise you’ll be here in the morning?”

He chuckled, “I promise, Stiles.”

Stiles hesitated a moment, refusing to meet Scott’s all too stunning eyes. “…promise you’ll still like me, too?”

“Definitely promise, dude.” He grinned, boarding on too radiant for Stiles to comprehend. “Definitely.”

**Author's Note:**

> thanks for reading, please comment and also, check out my [blog](http://whatthehalefire.tumblr.com)(:


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